


With a Bang

by AdAstra (smut_fairy)



Series: Anytime, Anywhere [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, New Year's Eve, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 21:39:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13221777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smut_fairy/pseuds/AdAstra
Summary: "They are somewhat conspicuous, she guesses. Not so high that a passerby on the street couldn't see if they looked up, not so far from the bright lights of the party that someone looking out the window couldn't make him out behind her, caging her in."-----aka, Bellamy and Clarke ring in the new year together on a fire escape.





	With a Bang

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year's Eve to all! I've been a little AWOL the past few months but I couldn't resist a little NYE smut ;) 
> 
> Takes place in the same universe as [Whenever, Wherever](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10624368/chapters/23499606) but I didn't want to add it as a chapter since it comes a little out of order. I haven't decided exactly where it makes sense, but definitely sometime before they move in together.

"It's fucking freezing out. What are you doing out here?"

Clarke hums and leans back into Bellamy's warm embrace. She'd been looking for an escape from the stifling heat of the party. Raven's guest list was ambitious, much larger than the potential capacity of her apartment. It made for a fun party, but a few hours in, Clarke had retreated to the relative privacy of Raven's fifth-story fire escape for a breather.

She'd been relying on the pleasant buzz of champagne to keep her warm, but with Bellamy's body heat at her back, his frame wrapping around her bare shoulders, she's flooded with a gentle warmth of contentment.

"Just needed some air," she says, tipping her head back to loll on his shoulder.

His expression is fond as he looks down at her, the curl of his lip and spark in his eye sending an entirely new kind of heat racing down her spine.

She rocks her weight back on her high heels, pressing into him where she can feel him hard against her ass.

"Yeah, babe?" He chuckles, dipping his head to drop a kiss on her lips.

Clarke hums again, this time in agreement as she grinds her hips dirty and firm against his. Bellamy swears, dropping his head to rest his lips against her neck.

His hands flex on her hips, stilling her motion, and Clarke gives a petulant whine.

_"Bellamy."_

"Clarke." His voice has gone thrillingly raspy. It makes her shiver.

"I want you," she breathes, barely audible over the noise from the party, cars honking down the street, and the wind. He drops a tender kiss on the crook of her neck, impossibly soft. Of their own accord, her eyes flutter closed.

"What do you want?"

"Your hands," she whispers, gripping the iron railing hard despite the frigid temperatures. "I want your fingers."

Bellamy's lips trail up her neck to her ear, lipping at her earlobe, nibbling on the shell of her ear until Clarke's breaths are coming in hot pants, fleetingly visible before them in the cold air.

"Where do you want my fingers?" He murmurs, letting his hands drift to the hem of her extremely short dress.

Midnight blue and sparkling like the night sky with a neckline that dips well into her generous cleavage, Clarke had been thrilled at the reaction the dress had elicited from her friends when she stepped out of the dressing room. This, though - Bellamy at her back, toying with the material as he drags it up her thighs - this is the reaction she's been looking forward to the most.

Her breath hitches when he pulls it high enough to get his hands underneath it, to trace the lace of her undergarments around her hip bones and into the crease of her thigh.

"I want to come on your fingers," she says, desperate when he keeps toying with the fabric rather than with what lies underneath. "I want them inside me. On my clit. Please, babe - "

She cuts herself off with a sharp gasp as he nudges the material aside, settling his fingers in that familiar, intimate spot.

His thumb traces her folds, fingertips dipping between them to test how wet she is.

"Fuck," he groans, hips stuttering against her backside as he finds his answer. "Been thinking about this, babe?"

"Ever since I put this dress on."

"God, Clarke."

He slips one finger into her, his other hand clutching her tighter against him when her knees threaten to give out. It's a slow pace at first, still exploring to see how ready she is. The crook of his finger, the sweet friction inside her, is nearly perfect. Clarke just needs -

"More," she pleads, widening her stance enough that her dress inches up even higher. "Bellamy, more."

"Whatever you want," he husks, and gives her another.

And _oh_ , that's the stretch she wants. She loves his hands, the thickness of his fingers, the masterful way he plays her body, like an instrument he's devoted his life to studying. She wants to rock against them, wants to fuck herself on his hand in her favorite way, but he has her pretty well pinned against the railing.

They are somewhat conspicuous, she guesses. Not so high that a passerby on the street couldn't see if they looked up, not so far from the bright lights of the party that someone looking out the window couldn't make him out behind her, caging her in.

As much as she likes the idea of getting caught, there's something inexplicably hot about the lengths he's going to in order to mask his actions. Bellamy fucks her slow and perfect, murmuring his approval as his fingers scissor inside her, as they curl and twist and thrust to hit all the right spots. Clarke clenches down on his fingers, gasping quietly for breath and feeling Bellamy grow harder against her ass.

"Feeling good?" He teases when she arches back against him. His fingers graze that same spot again, drawing a low groan from Clarke.

"Alright, I guess," she teases back, her breathlessness betraying her. "Would've thought you'd pick up the pace a little - "

Bellamy huffs, his breath mingling with hers in the air, and pounds that same spot again, vibrating his hand over it. Clarke's teeth dig into her lip as she holds back a string of curses, focusing instead on the feeling of his mouth on her neck, licking and nipping at her skin with a tenderness in stark contrast to the motions of his hands.

"I wanted to take my time with my girl. Is that such a crime?"

Their public trysts are normally much quicker, less controlled. A race to finish before being found. Having it drawn out and out and out like this, well. Clarke doesn't hate it.

With movements so slow as to appear almost motionless, no one at the party would know what they're up to from just a glance. Clarke's white-knuckled grip on the rail, the slow ripple of muscles on Bellamy's arm, the width of her stance - these things might give them away if someone were to look too closely.

And the longer he draws it out, the higher chance that someone will take a closer look.

The thought sends Clarke into a spiral, her walls fluttering, her heartbeat a trill in her chest.

"Hold it off," he urges, sinking his teeth into the muscle on her shoulder. Clarke moans softly, reeling herself back from the edge. It isn't easy but she manages somehow, hissing through her teeth when she finally can release the tension in her muscles.

"So good for me. So good to me," he murmurs, nosing at her jaw.

"Any particular reason I'm not coming yet?" She asks through gritted teeth.

His fingers drive hard and good into her, not making it easy by any means.

Bellamy's laugh is softer than she would've expected, as turned on as she knows he is. The wet kiss he laves over her pulse point is soft too, soothing her racing heart.

"It's corny," he mumbles into her skin. "You're going to laugh at me."

Inside, the lights go out and the music cuts off abruptly, excited chatter ringing into the night.

"Tell me anyway," she says, resting her head back against his shoulder again.

Even with his pupils blown black, she can see something that looks a lot like love in his eyes as he watches her. Perhaps even more surprisingly, what she sees doesn't scare her. Not one bit.

"Thirty seconds!" Someone calls from inside.

Bellamy cranes his neck to steal a kiss off her lips, one that tastes like champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries. The slide of his lips on hers, his fingers still working inside of her, is so good Clarke loses herself in it, drawing back only when the crowd begins to count down from fifteen.

"I wanted to get the timing right," he admits, smiling wide when she stutters a laugh against his lips.

_"Eleven!"_

_"Ten!"_

He adjusts his angle so that he can get his thumb giving her up-and-down passes over her clit and Clarke's laugh turns high. Desperate.

_"Seven!"_

_"Six!"_

"What better way to start off the new year than with an orgasm?" He teases, tightening his movements to give her the push she needs to get over the edge. Clarke captures his lips in a fierce kiss, not even caring who might be watching anymore.

_"Three!"_

_"Two!"_

Right as the party explodes into cries of "Happy New Year!," and the sky explodes into the fizzle and crack of fireworks, and Clarke's body explodes with waves of pleasure that burn even brighter and ring even louder in her ears than the rest of the festivities, she tells him, for the first time, _"I love you."_

When she comes down, she feels his lips in her hair, stretched in a way that she knows his smile is absolutely blinding. He's still holding her against him as the heaving of her chest slows and she finds her footing again.

Before she can move or speak, the window slides open.

"Are you guys fucking nuts?" Raven calls. "It's freezing out here! Not to mention, you're missing the party!"

"We'll be right in," Bellamy assures her, kissing Clarke's temple as he shifts subtly to further block Raven's view.

Raven grumbles something else but shuts the window again, leaving them to themselves.

With careful hands, Bellamy smooths Clarke's dress back down over her thighs. His touches are so tender, so sweet, that suddenly she needs to be kissing him.

She turns in the circle of his arms, coaxing his lips to hers without much trouble at all.

"You were right," he whispers. "That was a much better way to start the new year."

"I wasn't trying to steal your thunder," she laughs, giddy. "And that was a pretty amazing orgasm."

Bellamy tips her chin up with one finger, the lightest of kisses passing between them.

"I love you too."

"Yeah, okay." She beams. "That's pretty amazing too."

"That's what I'm saying."

If that's the way they _begin_ the year, Clarke can't wait to see what the rest of it holds.

And she's right.

It's pretty amazing, indeed.


End file.
